


Wham, Bam, Get Your Shit and Leave

by MorganOfTheFey



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angry Sex, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, Face Sitting, Masochism, Minor Sadism, Orgasm Denial, Other, Threesome, Wall Sex, anyway, close-to-hate sex, minor breathplay, not actually a Sole Survivor I just had to tag them as something, pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7654090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganOfTheFey/pseuds/MorganOfTheFey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>so siathesquid on tumblr suggested an AU where all the characters have reverse morals, but instead of making something serious and grimdark, I made badboy!Deacon who still works for the Railroad, but is a total sleazy asshole about it. he has his own <b>special</b> method of welcoming new recruits ...</p><p>***</p><p>Charmer’s eyes snap over to the other agent, who gives them a cursory once over, scoffs, then busies themself with bracing their hands on Deacon’s chest to get better leverage as they ride him.</p><p>“Are you really offering to eat me out?” Charmer blurts.</p><p>Deacon snorts. “Well I’m damn sure not offering to meet your parents for Sunday brunch."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three's a Party

**Author's Note:**

> Deacon tries to have a daddy kink in this, but Charmer isn't having any of that bullshit. sorry guys, I just couldn't do it.

The newest Railroad recruit, codename “Charmer,” walks into the room and stops dead as they find the legendary John D, codename “Deacon,” flat on the desk with another agent riding his dick like a stolen pony.

Charmer immediately kicks the door shut so no one else can see the filthy display, but then they realize that they’re on the _wrong side of the door_ and still watching. They almost muster the willpower to turn away, an apology already building in their throat, when Deacon lazily cracks his eyes open and lets his head loll to the side to see who came in. The other agent doesn’t appear to give any fucks other than the one they’re getting, and Charmer’s eyes can’t decide whether they want to focus on Deacon’s cobalt blue gaze or his dick rolling up inside the other agent.

“Hey, you here for the party too?” he asks with a smirk. “Don’t remember sending out any other invitations, so I’m afraid I don’t have any positions left on my staff. Still got a damn good seat available on my chin though."

This is _not_ what Charmer expected when Desdemona told them to see Deacon for “orientation."

But also. Their eyes have finally found a detail to latch onto, and it’s his gorgeous red hair fanned out over the desk, practically dripping over the edges. It must come down to his waist when he’s upright and it looks soft. Is it soft? Charmer’s fingers twitch at their sides with the urge to run their hand through all that glorious hair.

“In or out, love,” the agent on top of Deacon huffs.

Charmer’s eyes snap over to the other agent, who gives them a cursory once over, scoffs, then busies themself with bracing their hands on Deacon’s chest to get better leverage.

“Are you really offering to eat me out?” Charmer blurts.

Deacon snorts. “Well I’m damn sure not offering to meet your parents for Sunday brunch."

How the hell can he still talk like that while fucking someone? He doesn’t even sound short of breath! Actually, he sounds … pretty goddamn good. That is a _nice_ voice.

And there’s another voice whispering in Charmer’s ear that’s the devil on their shoulder. They’ve been through a lot—seriously, a lot, lately. Don’t they deserve something good for once? A no-strings-attached orgasm is exactly what the universe owes them for all the shit it put them through.

Charmer waits for the angel on their shoulder to speak up.

The voice of reason?

Their conscience?

But the only sound in the room is the smacking of Deacon’s hips up into the other agent, and the grunts and groans shared between them. Neither of the two seem to mind that Charmer is just staring at them, and it seems like they might have forgotten the new recruit is there at all.

“Honestly, I deserve this,” Charmer suddenly announces.

Deacon glances back over at them with a filthy grin. “Atta kid."

“I’m twenty-eight,” Charmer grumbles as they fumble with the button of their pants.

“Hi twenty-eight, you can call me daddy."

“Get over here and shut him up,” the other agent snaps.

The new recruit stumbles over as fast as they can, shoving their pants down the rest of the way. They haven’t bothered with underwear, and Deacon makes a low hum of approval at the sight. Charmer quickly hops up onto the desk and swings a thigh around the other side of his head before he can change his mind or they can lose their nerve.

But they make the fatal mistake of looking down. Never look down. In this case, Charmer makes eye contact with Deacon, the bright blue of his eyes drawing them in until they feel a bit dizzy.

That feeling is quickly cut short however by a firm lick across their folds that startles a yelp out of them. Deacon chuckles in between their thighs, and Charmer squeezes their thighs more tightly around his ears in retaliation. He doesn’t give a word of complaint, mostly because he’s back to enthusiastic licking.

And _fuck_ if it doesn’t feel good.

Sure, the position is awkward with Charmer’s pants down around their ankles, stretched tight across his upper chest so they can straddle his face. And the other agent is back behind them, still riding him like an express train. That’s kind of awkward if Charmer stops to think about it, but they can’t think of anything at the moment other than the way Deacon’s lapping his tongue over their clit.

“Shit,” they breath, the most intelligent thought they can muster.

Deacon hums against them, and Charmer doesn’t know if he’s laughing at them again or trying to make another smartass comment, but either way they decide the best course of action is to bury their hands in his hair and yank him closer. He growls in response, and _ohhh_ , that’s better than the humming.

But then his tongue switches to just circling around their clit.

“Nooo, fuck, c’mon."

Deacon gives them a quick swipe across their little nub and deliberately raises his chin to rub his stubble against their dripping entrance. Charmer gasps and tries to grind down on his face, but he’s already back to licking around where they want him most.

“Don’t fucking tease!"

A laugh behind them actually makes Charmer jump a little. They somehow forgot about the other agent.

“Hun, that’s all he does."

Charmer huffs and fists their hands in his hair harder to push his head exactly where they want it. Deacon merely raises his eyebrow up at them and refuses to comply with his tongue. Charmer narrows their eyes and, with a little bit of shuffling, manages to position the tight stretch of their jeans across his throat. Everything about the position is still too awkward for the fabric to actually cut off any of his air supply, but it’s the thought that counts.

And Deacon is either impressed by their daring or into that sort of thing, because he moves one hand from the other agent’s hip to Charmer’s instead, pulling them closer by himself. His hand turns out to be much-welcomed support as his lips finally close around their clit.

“Oh, fuck yes."

He sucks just hard enough to make their thighs tense, Charmer beginning to curl in on themself in response to the feeling of an oncoming orgasm. The other agent behind them must have the same idea, because the slapping of skin on skin grows louder and faster before they come with a cry. Charmer whines, wordlessly begging to get their own turn, but then a strong forearm is easily pushing them away.

“All right, up and at ‘em,” Deacon says, lifting his head.

There’s another light slap as he hits the other agent’s thigh, urging them off his dick. Charmer is still too lightheaded from the near orgasm to really process what’s happening.

“Fuck you,” the other agent retorts as they dismount.

“I’ll schedule you in for that this same time next week,” he quips.

The other agent scoffs again and slips out the door. Charmer shifts restlessly above him, barely holding back a needy whine.

“You gonna eat the rest of this or what?” they ask instead, trying to sound as cool and aloof as him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls back. “I thought I might recite _War and Peace_ while I’m down here. The unabridged version. Educate the ah, unwashed masses."

Charmer flushes at the slight regarding their personal hygiene—there aren’t many baths full of clean water just laying around in the Wasteland, thank you very much—and yanks on his hair hard in retaliation. Deacon’s pupils blow out wider, darkening his eyes, and he scrapes his teeth over their clit for payback.

Mutually assured destruction. As long as Charmer gets an orgasm out it, they can dig it.

They ease up on his hair though, and he plays a bit nicer down between their legs. Licking across their entrance this time before suddenly spearing his tongue inside them. They gasp and hunch forward, bracing themself against the desk with one palm, their other hand still tangled in his hair.

Then he pulls his tongue back out, and Charmer has to resist the urge to scoot back and literally strangle him.

“Fuck, no, you can’t just—c’mon, fucking—"

Their incoherent ranting cuts off when he replaces his tongue with two fingers. Charmer grinds their teeth together and scrapes their nails against the wooden desk. It’s too much, too fast, and the stretch of it _burns_ like a mother fucker, but his lips are finally back around their clit again and the tips of his fingers are stroking just right inside of them.

“Lemme,” Charmer gasps out. “Just let me—please, please, let me!"

They think they feel his lips curl into a smirk at the sound of their begging, but then he sucks hard at the same time his fingers press into that spot, and Charmer can’t think of anything except desperately rolling their hips against his face as they come.

They’re barely through riding out the high before he gives their thigh the same little slap.

“So this is a desk, the floor’s down there, and that’s the door.” He slaps their thigh again. “Go check it out."

Charmer stumbles down from the desk, fighting past the post-orgasm haze to pull their pants back up.

“But what about—"

“Don’t you worry about little ole me,” Deacon says. “Now, shoo. Go on."

He stands up and pushes them toward the door, apparently having no issues walking even with the erection he’s still sporting.

“You’re supposed to give me the orientation speech!” Charmer protests. “Lesson. Thing. Whatever."

“You can get that lecture from Carrington. Now, here’s your pack—"

“Ah, c’mon! Carrington looks like he’s trying to take a shit out his nose."

Deacon lets out a sigh from behind them, and then suddenly he’s got them pinned up against the wall next to the door, face and chest pressed into the wood.

“Do you really want me to teach you a lesson?” he asks lowly, breath ghosting across their ear.

_All right, so I’m zilch for three,_ Charmer thinks. _If my angel, conscience, and voice of reason are all on holiday, maybe some common sense is still hanging around?_

But instead they hear themself say, “Yes, please."

“Still wanting on you to call me daddy."

Charmer throws their elbow back into his side, which Deacon deflects with ease and a chuckle.

“Fair enough."

He tugs their pants back down and has the tip of his dick nudging against their entrance in the very next moment. Charmer braces against the wall, but he holds himself steady there just like that.

“Goddammit, fuck me already!” Charmer growls.

“Okie dokie."

“What the fu—uhhhh …"

Deacon pushes inside all at once and Charmer’s mouth falls slack, their head tilted to the side so that their cheek presses into the wall.

“It’s the look of confusion,” he confides to them in a whisper. “Just like that. Gorgeous."

“You’re … a horrible … asshole,” Charmer pants.

“That’s lesson number one."


	2. Teacher's Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lesson number two is that it's tough being the favorite ...

“What’s lesson two?” Charmer pants against the wall.

Deacon pulls back and then slams into them hard enough to jolt them up on their toes, making them grateful for the support of the wall. Also, that he can’t see the way their eyes roll back in their head. He’s fucking smug enough.

The next thrust has their hands scrabbling against the wall for purchase and the one after that makes Charmer bite their lip so they don’t let out an embarrassingly loud moan. Deacon’s dick isn’t the biggest they’ve ever seen, but boy howdy does he know how to use it.

Shit, he must literally be fucking them stupid if he just made them think the phrase, “boy howdy."

Charmer finally gets their hands properly braced against the wall to help them shove back into his thrusts, and the result tears a strangled whine out of their throat. Their clit is still throbbing and sensitive from his mouth earlier, but it feels like he could make them come on his dick alone.

They think this must be lesson two until he begins to speak, not even having the decency to sound flustered in the slightest from the solid pounding he’s still giving them.

“The pass phrase … for identifying another agent … is … ‘Do you have ... a geiger counter?’” Deacon lectures in the middle of fucking.

Charmer shudders at the sound of his voice. He could be reciting the Brotherhood of Steel rulebook and they’d still probably get wet.

“And you say … 'Mine is in the shop’,” he continues. “Got that?"

Charmer nods frantically, hoping it will be enough of a response to keep him talking.

“Good kiddo."

The praise makes a moan slip past their clenched teeth, and they don’t need to turn around to know he’s grinning behind him. Charmer gives in fully to leaning against the wall, letting it support their full weight as Deacon fucks into them.

“Now, if you see … a starburst pattern … that’s eight lines making a star."

Deacon suddenly stops, both the lecture and his thrusting. Charmer’s eyes snap open, and they attempt to push back against him with a desperate whine.

“How many lines?” he asks them.

What?

Charmer tries to think. He mercilessly grabs their earlobe with his teeth and tugs on it while they’re trying to concentrate.

“How many lines, kiddo?"

“Umm …” Charmer squeezes their eyes shut again and thinks hard. “Eight?"

“There you go,” he murmurs, rubbing his palm up and down their flank soothingly.

Deacon raises his hand to press his fingers against Charmer’s lips, and they don’t need to be told to suck. They’re grateful for the fingers stroking their tongue when he thrusts back into them because they need something to muffle their long groan.

“So. Starburst pattern,” he says, still maintaining a steady pace.

Charmer whimpers around his fingers. This is not their preferred learning style. There’s no way they can concentrate like this, not when he’s deliberately aiming for their g-spot with every thrust.

“If it has … a plus in the middle … that’s an ally."

Plus, ally. Ally, ally, ally, a—ahhh fuck. His thumb hooks under their jaw and pulls their mouth open. Spit runs down his fingers and the front of Charmer’s chin. The gurgled sounds they’re making sound fucking pathetic, even to them, and it sends a hot stab of arousal through their gut.

“ _Six_ lines … and a cross … is danger,” Deacon continues without a care in the world. “That’s important … so remember it."

Six lines. Eight lines for the other and six for … shit. SHIT, for something. Danger! Six lines for danger.

God, there’s no way Charmer is going to be able to remember this.

“Now back to eight lines."

Charmer groans, and he snickers against the back of their neck, pausing in his lecture to leave a few love bites on their shoulder. Maybe he does have a shred of decency in him, because the pain helps ground them, makes it feel like they might be able to focus.

A little.

“An arrow shows you … where to go."

Then he pins Charmer agains the wall with just his body weight, so the hand that’s gripping their hip is free to curl around their stomach and dip down between their legs. Charmer makes a frantic sound against the fingers still shoved in their mouth, but Deacon doesn’t seem to care.

“Square means … a cache … nearby."

His thumb flicks over Charmer’s clit, and they struggle uselessly against him. To get more or get away, they’re not sure.

“Teardrop … is … deadrop."

Even Deacon’s composure begins to slip as his advice gets shorter, his voice dropping deeper and rasping out of his throat. It’s honestly as much of a distraction as his thumb rubbing firm circles juuust around Charmer’s clit.

“House … is … safe … house."

Charmer frantically tries to choke back a scream building in their throat in time with their oncoming orgasm.

But then Deacon stops totally. The new recruit can actually feel the heat of his thumb hovering right above their clit, but he doesn’t move a millimeter.

“Now repeat it all back to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK I really truly am a mean bad person >:) but since this chapter is so short, I'll post chapter three on Monday instead of making you guys wait a few days!


	3. The Full Initiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the big finale we've all been waiting for ;)

Fuuuuck.

Charmer does their best to swallow past the fingers in their mouth, but those are suddenly removed. They gulp in the silence. What was the question?

Right. Repeat it. All of it.

Fuuuuck.

“Um, starburst pattern?” Charmer half-says, half-asks.

“Mm-hmm, go on."

“Eight lines and a uh, plus.”

They exhale shakily, clenching around Deacon’s cock, but it doesn’t provoke any reaction from him.

“That’s an ally,” they continue.

“Good padawan."

“What’s a—"

Charmer’s question is cut off by Deacon’s thumb flicking back over their clit. The brief spark of pleasure isn’t nearly enough to call back the fading build up of their would-be orgasm, but it’s enough to keep them on edge.

“Next,” he calls, thumb stilling.

“Oh fuck,” Charmer breathes.

“I’ll give you one free pass if you follow that up with ‘me, daddy’,” Deacon says.

“Six lines!"

“Damn."

“With a uhhh … not plus?” Charmer blinks sweat out of their eyes as they stare at the wall. “An ex! Exes are bad. That’s an enemy."

“Doing better, kiddo."

Deacon’s murmured praise shoots through them like the jolt that hits when he rocks up, just barely nudging the dip of his dick against their g-spot. Charmer’s vision starts to blur, and it’s not just from sweat. They expect him to stop and go back to completely stillness after this, but he keeps up the slow, subtle rocking motion.

“Not fair,” Charmer gasps. “Oh fuck, fuck, _fuck you_ , not fair!"

“Keep complaining, buddy,” Deacon whispers in their ear. “I’ll get off on that alone and come without you."

Charmer’s whole face twists up as they let out a growl. This orgasm had better be goddamn worth it. Maybe they should have went with Carrington after all.

Actually, thinking of him helps tamp down orgasm hovering just out of reach. Charmer pictures the disapproving face he makes whenever they so much as breath near him in a desperate attempt to focus.

“Arrow points in the right direction,” Charmer grounds out. “And square is—"

Deacon’s thumb gets in on the action, back to rubbing tight circles around the new recruit’s throbbing clit.

“Is … issss … cache!”

Charmer is out right panting at this point, but they’re too far gone to be embarrassed about it. Deacon hums his approval and starts sucking a hickey into the side of their neck.

“Um … I—ahh.”

“Two more,” he murmurs into their ear. “C’mon babe, you got this."

Charmer lets out an absolutely pathetic whimper, and they can actually feel how his cock twitches inside them at the sound.

“Drop,” they mumble. “Drop and drop. A um, teardrop and—oh fuck—a … deadrop."

“That’s it,” Deacon breathes.

A shiver wracks through Charmer’s whole body at the sign of him finally sounding as close as they are. They’re distracted by thoughts of whether he’ll hold back and be dead silent when he comes or if he’ll finally let go and snarl out his orgasm into their ear.

The slow rolling of his hips stops.

“We had a deal, Lucky Charms."

Charmer lets out a frustrated cry and smacks their hand against the wall, beyond caring about who might hear them on the other side of the thin wall. Tears start to build up in the corners of their eyes. They’re so fucking close but they just can’t remember.

“Safe house,” they choke out.

“What about it?"

“You fucking merciless asshole!"

Deacon clicks his tongue in disappointment and starts to pull back out.

“Wait, please!” Charmer cries. “The safe house sign is …"

Oh God, they really can’t remember. All they can think of is “safe house.” Did he even say what the sign was?

“A …” They swallow hard and finally whisper, “House?"

It couldn’t be that easy.

Could it?

“And we’ve got a winner."

Charmer sags against the wall in relief, but Deacon still doesn’t push back inside them. Instead, his arm comes up, and he presses his wrist against their mouth.

“You’ll want to bite down,” he promises darkly.

They open their mouth willingly and allow him to push his wrist past their teeth. Charmer is all too happy to bite down _hard_.

It gets the first groan from him they’ve heard this whole time.

But they don’t have long to dwell on that before he moves his other hand up to grip the front of their shoulder. Then he uses that grip as leverage to yank them back down on his cock.

The pace he sets is brutal in its intensity, and Charmer has to quickly shove their own hand down between the wall and their legs to rub desperately at their clit, the backs of their knuckles scraping against the wood every time he slams back into them.

They bite down hard enough to draw blood when he finally tips them over the edge, muffling the scream from their orgasm against his wrist. Deacon doesn’t slow or try to ease them down in the slightest, fucking them all the way through it until his wrist is muffling sobs of overstimulation.

He pulls out without any ceremony. Charmer staggers sideways and just barely catches themself against the wall without his body weight pinning them there. They’re more than willing to turn around, drop to their knees, and let him fuck their face next, but he suddenly steps back close enough to tug up their pants.

“Wha …?"

“Pack,” Deacon reminds them, manhandling their limbs through the straps. “There you go, kiddo. You’ve had a big first day at school, but you did swell."

He gives Charmer’s ass a hard smack before opening the door and literally shoving them out. They stumble back into the hallway, dazed, confused, and thoroughly satisfied. Another agent with stone-white hair cut into a sharp mohawk grins at them as they pass by and casually tosses over their shoulder,

“Welcome to the Railroad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the no Deacon orgasm, but I'm trying to stick as closely to his original character as I can. so even this au!Deacon is too paranoid and guarded to let down his guard enough to come in front of someone, especially a stranger who could use a moment of weakness like that against him.
> 
> on the bright side, I'm already thinking of a sequel. after all, Charmer does know that Deacon will be there at the same time next week to fuck that other agent again. I'm thinking he makes Charmer sit in a chair and wait their turn like they're in a doctor's waiting room. except they've stolen his copy of War and Peace and are casually skimming through it, pretending not to watch or be impressed, and a challenge like that can't go unpunished ...

**Author's Note:**

> I too, am a horrible asshole, but I promise I'm not ending this here! I have the rest of the scene written out, so I'll post the next chapter in a few days.
> 
> reviews miiiiiight make that sooner tho ( ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡°)


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